By Pyres' Light
by BrainstemSlaver
Summary: Sam and Dean are hunting something that is burning people alive - but what happens when Sam is kidnapped by whatever has been doing this? Case!fic.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a re-write of the fanfiction "Land of Entrapment"! This is a case fic, so if that's not your thing... at any rate, thank you for checking out this story! I hope you enjoy it, and just as a heads up, the action *really* starts in around... chapter five? This is pre-written and already finished, so there's no worry about it being left hanging. This is set after John died.**

 _"We can't die because we're young,  
At least that's what we heard in a song...  
Fire, fire fire!"_

 _Fire, Flyleaf_

* * *

Sam walked out of the public bathroom, every inch of his skin feeling dirtier than it had when he had gone in only moments before. Of course, gas station restrooms tended to have that effect, he had found. He was surprised just how easy it was to fall right back into the odd routines that involved navigating and putting up with grimy motels and shady stores. The man took note of everyone wandering nearby him, and of the exits, before he stepped into one of the aisles. Their father had died only months ago, and things had been... Off ever since then. He could see Dean healing, (Although his brother would shy away from that discussion) but it was still a relief to see. He wanted his brother and partner, and with all of the crap involving the visions and psychics, he needed the seemingly unchangeable presence now more than ever. But Dean was still grieving, and everything else, to some degree, Sam had put on a mental back-burner.

A buzzing in his pocket pulled his thoughts into the present. He struggled to pull the phone from his jeans and then answered it, holding it up to his ear. He didn't say anything, he waited for the voice on the other end to speak first.

"I got a job for you boys, if you ain't too busy."

It was strange to him, people usually contacted Dean first, especially after Stanford. Even Bobby.

"Hey Bobby. What's the job?"

He gave a sweet smile to a woman who was ogling him from the other side of the aisle, discomfort settling in his chest and turning the smile into a grimace of sorts. He then promptly turned his back to her, walking around to the next area, hoping to lose his wide-eyed tail. She was peaking over the top of the aisle now. Sam winced inwardly and crouched, effectively ducking out of sight and pretending that he found a very interesting object on the bottom shelf, at the same time praying to God that his brother didn't find him like this.

"Looks like hunters are goin' missin' - you boys still in Arizona?"

"New Mexico now."

"Good, that's where you need to be. Remember Ward?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, standing up and hurrying to his right when the blond woman went from peeking over the aisle to careening around its corner, eyes searching.

"They found his body. Or what was left of it."

"What happened to him?"

"Dunno, but he was as good 'n crispy when whatever had him was through."

Sam cursed, a sound under his breath. The woman was still following him. He hunched down, ducking low enough as he zigzagged through the large, fancy shop, ducking behind aisles.

Dean strode around the aisle just then, one eyebrow raised at Sam's attempts to lose the woman. "Sam...?" Dean glanced past him at the woman. "You don't run from..." He leaned closer and lowered his voice, "...beautiful women. This is why you never..." he paused, seeming to just notice that Sam was on the phone. He mouthed, "who is it" and waited.

Sam moved the phone from his mouth, "Bobby. Hunters are going missing."

"You still there, Sam? They started disappearing all over New Mexico, you can research the cases, nobody's bein' shy about the deaths."

"Have you found out what's been doing this?"

"No, ya idjit, that's why I called you."

Sam huffed a laugh. "Okay, we're on it."

"Good. Be careful." With that, Bobby hung up, and Sam put the cell back into his pocket.

"Okay, so, hunters going missing. We thinking some kind of demon?" As Dean asked, he shuffled around Sam and angled away from the woman, not interested in her hearing THIS conversation.

"Yeah, maybe." Sam looked troubled. "But there haven't been any signs, no cattle deaths, nothing."

"Huh..." Dean nodded slowly. "Could be they're lying low."

Sam frowned slightly, putting his hands in his pockets. He was about to say something, then stopped, bustling past his brother, putting a hand briefly on Dean's shoulder as he moved towards the station's main entrance. He pushed through the doors and stepped just outside, buying one of the newspapers from a nearby machine. He unfolded the paper, skimming the headlines. He flipped to the next page; in bold letters it read, 'Bizarre Deaths and Gruesome Medieval Killings'.

It wasn't long before Dean followed Sam out. He carried a bag full of "supplies" and halted behind Sam, looking over his shoulder. "Medieval, huh? How so?"

"Pyres. Bobby mentioned something about burned bodies. Remember that guy Dad knew, Ward? He was one of the victims."

Dean frowned. "So, not demons then. That's not really their MO. Victims are all hunters?" Dean gazed at the newspaper, but his attention wasn't focused on it. Thoughts stirred as he considered the possibilities. "Could be a witch's ghost maybe? Someone hunters killed back in the... dark ages or something?" Dean shrugged. That was just a guess; they would have to research... Inwardly, Dean groaned at the idea.

Sam's lips tugged down and his eyebrows raised, completing the strange expression as he nodded. He folded up the paper again. "Motel?"

"Okay, sounds good. I'm gonna call Ash... have him double check for signs." They hadn't heard anything from yellow-eyes in a disturbingly long time. It didn't sit well with Dean.

Walking forward, Dean led the way back to the Impala, parked at the far side of the gas-station. He glanced back once to ensure Sam was following.

Sam stopped by the passenger side, bringing one arm up and resting it on the top of the Impala. He looked over the roof towards his sibling, debating inwardly if he should bring up the subject or leave it be - again. He argued with himself for a time, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. "You alright, Dean?"

Dean - already halfway in the car - paused and shot Sam a glare. "You keep asking me that like my answer's gonna change. Yes, Sam, I'm fine." He dropped into the car and pulled the door shut after himself, impatiently waving for Sam to do the same.

Dean started the car and pulled out onto the main road. Moriarty New Mexico was a small town. Finding a place to stay a few nights should be easy. "The other hunters; what brought them here? Has it-whatever it is-only taken hunters?"

"I don't know," Sam popped the 't', "Bobby didn't say. He probably didn't know, either."

"Okay... research then." As an afterthought, Dean tacked on, "Hope they have a library here."

"Or free wifi," Sam added.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, really."

Wordlessly, Sam moved forward, choosing a cassette and putting it in; it wasn't something he usually did. He leaned back and let his hands rest on his legs, avoiding the sun burning his eyes. Hopefully there was actually a motel here in the armpit of New Mexico.

* * *

 **Comments, questions, snide remarks?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank y'all for the follows and favourites, I hope you enjoy this chapter too! If you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them, as always. Have a blessed day!**

 _"A son of a stepfather  
A son of a—_  
 _I'm so sorry."  
I'm So Sorry, Imagine Dragons._

* * *

The research hadn't dug up much, and so, the brothers had opted for talking to the family of the victims. They had already spoken to two, and now they would be speaking to the last - Jorge Clooney's wife (And on a different note, from his pictures the fellow who had supposedly been a Mechanic actually resembled the actor 'George Clooney'). They came to a stop outside the house. It's walls were painted bright yellow, and near the porch potted plants were lined up. Sam hopped out of the parked car, straightening his suit's lapels.

Dean left the car as well, pocketing the keys and strolling around the front to join Sam. "Hopefully, this turns up something more useful." After a momentary pause, he headed for the door and called back, "Who knew there were so many hunters in New Mexico, anyway."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, but didn't add anything else. He jogged up the two front steps and then stopped, rapping his knuckles against the door. He looked over its frame and noticed the door bell just a little too late, not that it mattered much, because only another moment passed before someone answered, peering at the two men. Sam pulled out his badge, letting it fall open and at the same moment saying, "I'm Agent Brody," he paused - he hadn't chosen the name, and up until that moment he hadn't realized that there was an extra 'o' - maybe I should start making my own friggin' - "and this is my partner."

Jorge's wife, Clair, looked at the badge before giving them both a watery smile and motioning for them to step inside.

"Not quite, Ma'am. Not until we know what's going on," Dean said, following Sam into the house. He gave what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

"Have-have a seat, agents. Do you want some coffee, or tea, or anything?" Clair wiped at her eyes and sniffed quietly, turning away to hide her reddened face. Sam followed her inside and spoke in a soft voice,

"Thank you Clair, but we're alright. Is there anything you can tell us about your husband's behavior recently?" Clair motioned for them to sit on the love seat while she took the rocking chair.

"No, nothing. I mean..." she paused and gave a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, "he just went hiking, you know? He was supposed to come back today."

Dean nodded, giving Sam a pointed look. "All right; we're sorry we have to ask, but was there anyone who would have wanted to hurt him? Maybe someone at work?" Dean wondered if the wife knew her husband had been a hunter.

"I... can't think of any. I mean, he was a rough guy, but people seemed to like that about him. He was superstitious, the police said that the other victims were, too; could that have something to do with it?"

Once again, Dean looked at Sam. "It might; what did he talk about?"

Sam returned the look.

"Everything? He said his mother was a Gypsy, or something, and taught him about the... spiritual realms. It never really mattered to me; everyone has their thing, you know? I just never thought he would die because of it." Clair choked on a breath, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"Your husband sounded like a good man," Sam said, his voice gentle, "We're very sorry. It's hard to lose someone like that." He met her eyes. Clair nodded and took a deep breath through her nose.

"Thank you. I just hope you find the son of a..." she stopped herself, "I hope you find who did this."

"We will." Dean nodded. "Is there anything you can tell us-anything specific-that he talked about before he left?"

"Um... No, not that I can think of. But he had been keeping track of the previous deaths, those other victims. He even had a box of news clippings and whatnot - I can go get it for you, if you'd like?" She was already beginning to stand up.

"That would be great," Sam began, "Did he, did he ever say anything about a pattern?"

She stared at him for a long moment, something flashing in her eyes. "Actually... he did. He said something about the deaths occurring in some kind of circle around... You know, I can't remember where it was. It's in the box, though. How did you know?"

"Oh, just a hunch we're working on."

"Thank you," Dean added, watching the woman walk away. He waited until she was out of earshot, then turned to Sam. "So they're all hunters. How far back does this go? Just recent, or have there been deaths spread out over years?"

Sam quickly turned towards his brother on the couch, leaning forward, "I couldn't find anything before this month. In the seventeen and eighteen hundreds there were secret witch trials, but they didn't use Pyres... And most of the convicted witches were jailed, not executed. It can't be a ghost."

Dean looked up at the roof and groaned. "Really? Man... I was hoping this would be an easy one." He thumbed a fist on his knee and sighed, looking at Sam again. "Okay, so back to square one then. Probably not a witch-ghost."

"It's gotta be a demon or something."

"Gotta be... Taking out anyone who knows how to kill a demon."

Before Sam said anything else, Clair shuffled back into the room with a rather large box and dropped it on the couch between the brothers. "Here you are, agents. I'm sorry, but I have arrangements to take care of..." she trailed off, hoping they would understand her request. "And you don't need to bring that back. It's useless to me."

Dean nodded, taking the box and standing up. "Thank you for your time... and we're sorry for your loss." With that, he headed toward the door.

Sam followed after, shutting the door behind them. Moments later he was slipping into the passenger side, pulling the Impala's door shut. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Dean joined him, glancing back at the house. "Can't we ever get the easy jobs?"

Sam frowned and followed his sibling's gaze, "Could be a pagan god?" It wasn't the reply he thought it would be, but the question came out nonetheless.

Dean's lips pulled down at the edges and he nodded. "Like the one in the apple orchard?"

"Yeah. Well," Sam took a breath, "crime scenes?"

"Right... Let's go." Dean shook his head and started the Impala, pulling away from the house and onto the small street.

* * *

 **Thank you again!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank y'all for the follows and favourites! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 _"it wont be long_  
 _til I'm dead and gone_  
 _watch the fires rise under my skin_  
 _down to the bone_  
 _scorching my soul_  
 _nowhere to run_  
 _nowhere to run_  
 _nowhere to run..."_

 _Blood In My Name, The Brothers Bright._

* * *

The day passed slowly. Finally, as the sun sank behind the Sandia mountains, they drove along a winding path leading to the latest crime scene. It was late enough that the park would be closed, and there would be no one around to spot them looking around. That was the hope, anyway.

Dean drove the Impala toward a chain hooked between two cement pillars. He parked, hopped out, and strode forward. In easy, practiced movements, Dean unlocked the padlock on the gate, dropped the chain, and got back in the car, driving in. He left the chain down in case they needed to make a hasty get away. One never knew with this job.

"So, Jorge was up here... why? Looking for the whatever-it-was that killed the other hunters? We looked through his box... he didn't really know much more than we do."

"Most of the locations of the other deaths actually made a circle around this place, if you look at a map." Sam had already said it before, but there was no harm in repeating it. He leaned his elbow against the door and put his fingers up to his mouth, distantly staring out at the darkened landscape. "That's all he knew, that's all we know." He sighed and his brows drew together, "I don't know man," Sam turned his head towards Dean, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Like... normal bad feeling, or splitting-headache-visio n bad feeling?" Dean glanced over at him even as he drove through a small shadowed path.

"What?" Sam paused for a moment, his expression changing, "Just a bad feeling."

Dean nodded. "We'll just be careful then." He shrugged. Trees blocked out the sun, towering overhead and stretching on up the mountain; seemingly endless. It wasn't long before they reached a spot roped off with yellow crime-scene tape. "Okay..." Dean muttered, leaning back and reaching into the back seat. He pulled the EMF reader from his duffel bag, as well as a handgun. He checked it to ensure it was loaded. Slipping out of the car, Dean glanced around. It seemed peaceful-quiet.

Sam checked his Beretta, tapping the slide with his palm and then putting the handgun into the waistband of his jeans, tugging his shirt over it. He looked back at Dean.

"So if it is a pagan god, what's it doing out here. New Mexico doesn't have a lot of mythology on that kinda thing."

"I know." Sam's expression was drawn in distaste. He opted for drawing his pistol, took out his flashlight and switched it on, at the same time moving his left arm under his right and bringing the light up to the side of the gun.

Dean moved forward, holding the EMF reader. So far, nothing lit up red. "No power lines... so nothing should effect it..." he muttered more to himself than Sam. He gazed around the small tree-less clearing. In the center of it, a pyre stood, with blackened ground all around it. The firefighters had put it out before it caused a forest fire, luckily. But not before Jorge had been fried.

Sam crouched beside the Pyre, looking at the ground around it. He stood and took several paces back. From the way it was built, he doubted Jorge died of smoke inhalation; the fire most have reached him first. Sam grimaced.

Dean walked around the perimeter of the burnt ground. "Well, the authorities did a pretty good job of trampling things, so if there were any tracks before... they're gone now. EMF still isn't picking anything up."

"Dean, I'm not even sure that this is our kind of -" Sam stopped rather abruptly when a noise sounded in the trees, drawing his attention away. He aimed the Beretta towards to sound, straining to hear.

Dean turned, looking toward Sam, then towards the ever-darkening trees beyond. He turned off the EMF, stuck it in his pocket, and drew his gun. Slowly, he eased forward until he was beside Sam. The sound came again. A light rustling of the leaves on a cotton tree. It could be nothing-an animal perhaps-but with their luck?

A shadow bolted away from the Pyre, leaves crunching underfoot. Sam leaped into a run.

Dean charged after him, gun aimed in the direction the... whatever was going. Ahead of them, it dashed into the trees, darting from shadow to shadow. "Did you get a good look at it?" Dean shouted, not slowing as he called to Sam.

"I couldn't tell," Sam called back, ducking a low branch.

Dean tripped over a conveniently-placed root, and nearly lost his footing, but he managed to right himself again and keep going. "Where is it?" he all but growled. He looked around, seeing only what Sam's flashlight and the faintest hint of ever-darkening sunlight illuminated.

Sam slowed to a walk, his chest heaving. He spun in a half-circle, listening, watching. He cursed, his jaw working. "I lost it," he breathed, both sounding and looking frustrated.

Dean slowed as well, closing his eyes and listening. He tried to still his breathing so he could hear... still there was only silence. Growling in annoyance, he turned, looking over at Sam. "Great!"

Sam clenched his teeth tightly and tipped his head to the side, his nostrils flaring. His arms lowered more with every heavy exhale. Anger burned in his chest, a feeling that he had become accustomed to, and he pushed away the words rushing into his head like poison.

"Okay..." Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. "Not much we can do tonight. Let's head back to the motel, and come check this place out again early tomorrow. Whatever we're after, it's obviously still around."

The younger only nodded, taking one last look towards the forest. He lumbered past his sibling, lost in his thoughts.

***SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Hours later they had arrived back at the motel, a small place called Sunset. They had gone for groceries after visiting the crime scene. Sam stepped into the room first, leaving the door open for Dean and then depositing one of the bags onto the small desk to the left. He pulled out the contents and placed them in the mini fridge, doing so silently. Beers, some food... Still without a word he slipped into the bathroom, taking his duffel bag with him. He changed into sweat pants and a long-sleeved blue shirt with a logo on the front. The bathroom was rather small and had yellow-white tiles, cream walls, and a small shower on the right side. He moved back into the other room, dropping himself onto the first bed he saw.

Dean was already sprawled out on the opposite bed. "Think it's a goblin? Are goblins real?" He muttered, mostly joking... mostly.

Sam groaned, bringing an arm up to cover his eyes.

"That's what I figured. It could still be a vengeful spirit. Not a witch maybe... but someone else? Demons don't tend to run... so it's probably not a demon," Dean thought out loud.

"Lampads?" Sam offered. His top lip drew up over his teeth and he let out a rattling sigh. "Cherufe, dragons, fyre fae."

"Lampads? You sure that means what you think it means?" Dean turned and looked over at Sam, smirking.

"Yes, Dean," Sam began, "Lampads. The Lampads or 'Lampades' are the nymphs of the Underworld in Greek mythology. They carry torches and accompany Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft and crossroads, on her night-time travels. According to some legends, the light of the Lampads' torches can drive humans to madness." He moved his arm from his eyes and turned his head towards Dean, "Also," and why was he still talking? - "a lampad is a lamp or a candlestick."

Dean laughed. "Dude..." He grinned. "That is why I get the all the girls."

At that, a half-smile grew on Sam's face and he sputtered out a soft laugh, shaking his head and looking back up at the ugly roof.

"Tomorrow, we'll head back out. Maybe it is one of your... whatever-it-was."

* * *

 **Thank you again! Reviews are encouraging, so if you have an opportunity to leave one, I would greatly appreciate it!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you both for the reviews, they were much appreciated! And I'm sorry for the confusion, this story isn't over yet, I suppose I didn't make that clear enough... My bad!**

 _"Lost in the city of angels  
Down in the comfort of strangers, I_  
 _Found myself in the fire burnt hills_  
 _In the land of a billion lights."_

 _City of Angels, 30 Seconds To Mars._

* * *

The library seemed to buzz in Sam's ears, only the sound of quiet movement and soft whispers filling the building. He pushed away from the pre-historic computer, the chair rolling back a foot before he stood from it. He had gotten lost in his own research, and somewhere between the point they had arrived and now, he had lost track of where his brother was. Had Dean even told him where he was going to go, or was he still in the library? He was probably still in the building. Sam picked up the pile of books he had been using and began the process of putting them back in their designated shelves.

At that moment, Dean strode through the doors across from Sam. He glanced around until he spotted his brother, then joined him by the shelves. In a hushed voice, Dean started speaking. "I went down to the station. The cops are thinking serial killer, but they can't find a connection between any of the victims."

"Huh," Sam put the last book back, then turned to Dean, "It's gotta be a ghost, man. Either that, or the cops are right."

"Huh... that'd be a first." Dean smirked. "But what about your... what was it again? Lampad? We haven't ruled that out yet either. I called Bobby... he said he'd check into it."

"Right," Sam replied. "I looked into weird deaths in the past year on a hunch, and Dean, I'm pretty sure there was a vamp nest in Willard just a few months ago, and so I called Ellen -" He paused and glanced sideways at Dean, "Guess which hunters took the job."

Dean's expression grew wary and his eyes narrowed. "Jorge and the others, I'm guessing."

"Yeah." Sam started to walk out of the aisle, checking both ways before he started speaking again, "But if they missed one, it would be bleeding them dry, not burning them."

"Yeah... that's a given. I'm looking through Dad's journal to see if he's come up against something like this."

"Maybe, maybe they're burning them to hide what they did to the bodies. Like exsanguination." Sam moved around a table.

"Huh..." Dean frowned in thought. "Maybe. That'd be a sure-fire way to throw hunters off their track."

"Morgue?"

Dean nodded. "Yup." He turned, heading for the door. "Hopefully the fire didn't burn any traces of pre-death trauma..." he added.

Outside clouds had already begun to gather, covering the sun; still, what sunlight did filter through reflected off of the Impala's black roof. Sam headed off towards the car. Dean moved around to the driver's side. He climbed in and waited until Sam was seated before starting the car. "If there are no signs of anything happening before death, what do you wanna do?" He looked Sam in the eye. If it really WAS a serial killer, that wasn't their territory.

Sam slipped into the passenger side. Sam looked at his brother, puppy-dog expression complete, "It's still killing people, Dean. Hunters," he took a breath, "The police don't have the whole picture, they might never find what - who - is doing it."

Dean frowned. "What are we gonna do that they won't?" He had a pretty good idea... but he half expected Sam to protest.

"We'll stop them," Sam put it simply, almost innocently. Most likely, the police would arrest them. But they didn't know about the connection - and since the victims had been hunters, that made it the Winchesters' problem.

"Are you sure about this, Sam? I mean, YOU?"

"What?" The younger's voice rose an octave. "Just because they don't have fangs, doesn't mean they're not a monster."

"OKay... I just expected..." Dean left the sentence unfinished. "Okay." He put the car in reverse, pulled back, then turned out of the library parking lot.

An hour later, they arrived at the police station - the bodies were being held in their morgue. Sam stepped out of the car and jogged up the steps, heading towards the looming building. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure his brother was following.

Dean was right behind him. He nodded and passed Sam. In a moment, he held the door open. Once Sam was inside, he let it swing shut behind them, then approached a dark-haired woman behind the front desk.

"Can I help you?" she asked without looking up.

"Yes. We're here to see the body of Jorge Clooney."

The young lady looked up, regarding the Winchesters through slitted eyes. "Oh?"

"Yes Ma'am," Sam spoke quickly, pulling out his fake badge and showing it to the woman. She frowned in suspicion - or maybe that was how she always looked - and then nodded, eventually.

"Go to the right and take the stairs to the last floor. Let yourself in, Doctor Lestran will be in his office."

"Thank you," said Sam.

Dean passed by her, heading to the right. Once they were out of earshot, he glanced at Sam. "She was friendly..." His exaggerated tone was obvious.

Sam huffed out a breath. "Really," he returned. He started down the stairs.

Dean trailed along beside him. Jorge's body ought to be crisper than fried bacon, but perhaps there was still some clue as to weather he died in the fire, or BEFORE.

When they reached the last floor, Sam moved towards the office. The door was already open, and so he stepped inside, calling, "Doctor Lestran?" The man at the desk looked up from his pile of paperwork. He looked at both of the newcomers.

"That's me."

"I'm agent Brody and this is my partner," Sam motioned towards Dean, "Agent Antone, we're with the FBI. We need to look at the burn victims?"

"Ah... Course you do." Lestran stood from his chair, his back popping with the motion. He plastered on a mirthless smile and then gestured for the two men to follow him through the rather cramped morgue. Dean moved out of the way so the man could pass, then followed him. The smell of antiseptic and cleaning agents was ALMOST enough to overwhelm that of death... ALMOST.

"Doctor, could you tell if there were any puncture marks anywhere on the body?" Sam was close on Lestran's tail, stopping when the man came to the body coolers. The M.E opened one of the drawers, pulling out the metal slab along with the charred remains.

"Well, Clooney was extinguished before it reached the last layers of skin, but I can't say that I noticed anything like that. Toxicology showed something in his system, though, but I haven't gotten the results back. I'm guessing some kind of drug to keep him unconscious while they built the pyre."

"Huh..." Dean leaned forward, looking at the charred remains. A voice in the back of his mind told him he SHOULDN'T be so casual about staring at a crispy dead body. He shrugged it off. The M.E seemed to be right. He couldn't see any puncture wounds. "Doc," Dean waited until he had the man's attention. "When you get the tox report back, give us a call." He handed Dr. Lestran an "FBI" business card with his number.

"I will." The doctor took the card and nodded, stuffing it into his coat's pocket. He pushed the slab back into the wall and latched the metal door. "Good luck with your investigation, agents. I hope you find this guy." He paused for a moment. "But, I must say, I don't think it was just one man."

"What do you mean?" Sam queried.

"Well, the strength it would take to knock out a person, even with a drug, and then drag them onto a pyre and tie them there in what, a few hours? You have to hold them up while balancing and tying the rope, and they did use rope. And if they... No, not even that," the man seemed to be talking to himself, "Either we're talking steroids, or multiple killers."

"Huh..." Dean nodded, giving Sam a pointed look. It COULD be a non-human, with extreme strength. But if it was a group...

Sam returned the look. "Thank you for your time, Doctor Lestran."

"Sure thing." The doctor waved them on.

Dean turned and headed for the door, staying quiet for the time being. Thoughts raced through his mind...

Sam felt the cool air rush against his expose face and neck as soon as they left the police station. There would be rain, no doubt. He put his hands into the slack's front pockets. "So wha'd'you think?"

"Honestly? I have no idea." Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "Maybe we should call Bobby and ask him to come out, or send someone. If we are dealing with a group..." He let the sentence go unfinished.

"Yeah, I'll call Bobby."

* * *

 **Thank you again! Reviews are encouraging, so if you have an opportunity to leave one, I would greatly appreciate it!**


	5. Chapter 5

**...And this is the anticipated chapter, I believe.**

 _"I sat alone, in bed till the morning  
I'm crying, "They're coming for me"_  
 _And I tried to hold these secrets inside me_  
 _My mind's like a deadly disease."_

 _Control, Halsey._

* * *

The sun traveled through the sky. Late afternoon came. Having decided that they shouldn't go back out to the crime scene in the dark, Dean had paced out of boredom. Finally, he decided to head out and restock their supply. He'd left, informing Sam he'd be back shortly, leaving with the words "Text if you think of something we need." With that, the door swung shut behind him.

Sam looked around the empty room. He grabbed his duffel bag from off of one of the twin beds and made his way to the bathroom. Minutes later he was stepping into the shower, the hot water running down his bare back. He was tired and sore - two things that had seemed to be constants ever since his first hunt, and how old had he been then? He couldn't remember. A throbbing settled in his head, pounding along with every beat of his heart. He faced the water, hoping the warmth would ease the discomfort in his temples, but it did nothing. Not a surprise, really. He sighed heavily and turned off the spray, wrapping a towel around his waist.

He hadn't had a vision for sometime, that was something he counted as a gain. A tiny sliver of hope began in his heart, like a crack in the wall letting in the smallest ray of light. Maybe he wouldn't have another, maybe that was it. No, his mind returned, give it time, it's not over. With that he frowned and began the process of dressing, his mind wandering. Something about the hunt was bothering him, maybe the idea that it really could be just people. Like the Benders; only these people were after hunters, for whatever reason. He couldn't come up with a solution to the current job, he couldn't come up with a reason that someone would only be after hunters, or a creature that could or would kill them with Pyre executions. They were missing something, and the awareness of it dug an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

The young Winchester dressed in jeans and a comfortable shirt, pulling on his boots as well. Maybe they needed a new way to look at this. He ran a hand through his wet hair and headed towards the door, snatching his motel key on the way. He closed the door behind himself and locked it, putting the key into his pocket. With a long inhale, he started jogging. He would stick to the sidewalk.

The rain had started drizzling from the sky, but he paid it no mind. Jess hadn't liked rain. The thought was so incredibly random that he nearly stopped in his tracks - but he pushed on, every step taking him farther away from the motel. Jess hadn't liked rain, she had liked the sun, especially when she could go to the beach. The thought sent a pang through his torso, like the sudden realization that something had been lost, and truly lost, not replaced and not left, but completely gone. Like their father. Sam was still worried about Dean; he himself hadn't taken much time to let grief push him down, he had done that long enough with Jessica, and he couldn't go through another loss like that. It had taken too much out of him. So he wasn't thinking much about John's death. He would, at least, he promised himself that he would. Next week, he thought. No, today's not a good day. Next week, and when next week came, he said 'in a while, not today'. Not today. When you're not busy.

This tactic seemed to work for him.

Sam reached a stop light and came to a halt. The rain was beginning to pour now, soaking his previously dry clothes. He let out a long, heavy breath and wiped the raindrops off of his face. He spun on a heel and began running the other way, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. The trip back to the motel was considerably shorter, or it felt it, and soon he was stopping just outside the room. He fished through his pocket for the key, frowning when it slipped from his hand and fell onto the pavement. He crouched and picked it up.

The man had only just opened the door when a weight slammed against his shoulder, ramming his left side against the door frame. He sucked in a breath, bringing his arm up and lashing out, his elbow connecting with what he assumed was a jaw. He didn't give it all much thought; a hand wrapped around his wrist and he twisted, pushing against the attacker's thumb, forcing him to release. There were three of them, they must have been waiting for him (or Dean, or both) to get back. He growled in his throat, clenching his teeth together as he punched the closest one.

Two men and one woman, they were wearing masks.

The two men gripped his arms, and despite his struggles, they pulled him away from the motel and into the parking lot. This was not happening again. He kicked, hearing as the heel of his boot connected with a knee. Someone cried in pain. The woman hit him in the solar plexus, her small fist driving out what little air he had in his lungs. Sam dropped, a trick he had learned from Dean, actually. In that moment, he couldn't help but think how much he loved his big brother. His weight took both of the men by surprise, and their grips moved from his biceps to his lower arms. He twisted his arms then, breaking free and rolling away.

Standing, he was fully intending on punching the largest brute in the throat, when a bolt of electricity ran through his torso.

Great. He sputtered, shaking, and landed on his knees, pain lancing through his back - the girl must have had a taser, he thought, his mind already in an odd state of half-thoughts and shock.

A fuzzy grey replaced the world. He was being moved, images blurred and sideways, he was hauled into a vehicle of some kind, doors slamming behind him. A roar resounded through the cramped quarters. He tried to reach for his phone, glad he still had it in his pocket.

He fingered the metal object. With a groan, Sam tipped over and landed on his shoulder, his opposite hand moving out to catch some of the weight. He pulled the phone out, his vision starting to come back in blurry double-images. The cell was held close to his face, hidden from the one woman and man that had stayed in the back of the truck with him. He hit speed dial.

A moment later, Dean picked up. "Sam?"

"SA-8554," Sam spoke.

"What? Sam? What's going on?" Concern laced Dean's tone.

Someone cursed from above Sam, and pain lanced his skull. He let out a guttural cry. He'd been kicked in the head, he realized, the idea of it bringing with it a rush of indignant anger. "Dean!" A giant hand reached down, starting to pry the phone out of his weakening hand. He felt childish, hanging onto the cell for dear life while the man pried one finger off at a time.

"Sam!" Dean cursed.

The phone was pulled away and Sam spat out a litany of curses that he learned from his Marine father. The man brought his foot down, effectively crunching the electronic under the heel of his shoe. Sam's head swam but still he pushed himself up. His vision faltered again, reverting to a distorted version of itself. One moment he was standing, leaning against the wall, the next thing he knew he was falling back down again, his face connecting with the hard truck bed.

* * *

 **Thank you again! Reviews are encouraging, so if you have an opportunity to leave one, I would greatly appreciate it!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you Hollyhobbit101 and Narcissaisme for the feedback!**

 _"January to December, do you want to be a member?_  
 _Lonely hearts club..._  
 _Do you want to be with somebody like me? Oh_  
 _Lonely hearts club..."_

 _Lonely Hearts Club, Marina & The Diamonds._

* * *

When Dean had arrived back at the motel room, he'd found it empty. Sam's cell phone sat in a smashed heap just outside. Dean paced impatiently. Seconds after his call with Sam ended, he'd called Bobby and told him to come. Though Dean was not the type to wait for help... he'd seen what had happened to other hunters who'd tried to take this thing.

He'd checked the parking lot, found a security camera, and took the tapes. He'd watched them. Sadly, the camera angle was bad, and didn't point toward their room. He did catch an old pickup speeding out of the parking lot. It was a plain black pickup with no plates. That was something, but definitely not the definite proof Dean wanted. They'd taken Sam... Dean ran a hand over his face. His brother was NOT going to end up as fuel for someone's over-sized camp fire... or, Pyre, as Sam called it.

Still... he'd been waiting for hours. If Bobby took any longer, Dean had decided he'd go out and find Sam on his own, regardless of the consequences.

Outside, a truck rattled into the parking lot, parking just beside the Chevy Impala. Bobby grumbled as he exited, slamming the door behind him. He had thought it a million times, and today he had thought it a million more - those boys were going to be the death of him. He made his way to the motel room, which was a ground-level, of course, and rapped his knuckles against the door.

Dean pulled the door open before Bobby's fist hit a second time. "About time, Bobby!" His voice came out harsher than he'd intended. He didn't mean to sound accusatory; not to Bobby at least...

"Don't get angry at me, boy, I ain't been idle." Bobby moved past the younger man. Still, he turned, looking at Dean with a concerned sideways glance.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." Dean pressed his fingers against his eyes until they ached, then looked at Bobby again. "It's Sam."

Bobby understood - he understood more than he let on. "You got any leads? When did these," he shrugged his shoulders back, eyes widening slightly, "whatever these are, catch your scent?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno...? Maybe..." He thought for a moment. "Back at the third crime scene. Sam and I heard something and chased it into the woods. We didn't catch it an it disappeared on us." After a moment, he went back to Bobby's previous question. "Leads? Well, I checked the security camera. I think whatever took Sam was driving a black pickup... the plate is SA-8554. They headed toward the freeway."

Bobby frowned. "Okay," he dragged out the word, "Where's the third crime scene?"

"Third crime scene is out in the Sandias... it's about a forty-five minute drive from here."

"Well, no time to lose. I'll follow."

Dean nodded. He'd already packed everything he thought he would need back into the Impala. Strolling around Bobby, Dean made a beeline for the Impala. He opened the door, and halfway between the outdoors, and the inside of the car, Dean paused. "Thanks Bobby."

"Don't mention it," Bobby drawled. He repositioned the baseball cap on his head and gave a slight nod.

Dean climbed into the Impala and pulled the door shut with a creak. He put the key in the ignition and tried to focus-to push away the anxiety slowly creeping in on him-to help Sam. Sam would be fine; that's what he'd tell himself.

SPN_SPN_SPN_ _SPN_SPN

Sam's head ached. He should have been used to that feeling by now, but the pressure pounding in his temples still made it hard to come to. Eventually, his eyes peeled open (peeled seemed the best description of it) one at a time, afternoon light burning against them. He squinted, his expression pained as he pulled against the ropes evidently holding his arms behind his back. Not an inch from his face an especially large beetle marched across the desert ground. He was outside, then, and restrained. The man tried to recall more than just the discomfort in his body - he had called Dean, hadn't he?

A loud, long creak made him flinch and he nearly shot upright, his muscles twitching and jerking in anticipation. He wouldn't move, they didn't know he was conscious. At least, he hoped they hadn't noticed yet.

"...Heave!" A nasal voice called, and there was another sound of wood creaking. "Heave!" It was repeated and became a mantra, every four seconds the same nasal voice commanded, "Heave!"

What the...?

Sam squinted against the light, willing his eyes to adjust. When they did, he felt his heart drop into his lower intestines. They were building a Pyre, and it wasn't just the three people who had jumped him. Three people - just humans - he felt a flash of irritation burn in his chest. He had been through this with the Benders, but at least the Benders hadn't had tasers... What exactly was this, anyway? It made even less sense than it had when they had been going off of the Lampad assumption. Even Goblins made more sense than this.

"...Heave!"

He could have rolled his eyes, except these people were planning on burning him alive, just as they had done to the previous victims. He glanced around as far as he could. He counted seven, maybe eight people, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to the young hunter. Sam moved his arms down, slowly moving his knees towards his chest. He bent his elbows outward and began the challenging process of pulling his legs through his arms, simultaneously sympathizing with butterflies and hoping that the Pyre-builders didn't hear his quiet, shuffling movements.

"...Heave!"

"If you say heave one more time, so help me Bart..."

"...Push!"

Sam pulled his feet through and then brought his bound hands up to his chest. Silently, cat-like, he stood from the ground. There were quite a few trees surrounding, and if he could get out of the clearing, he had a chance.

The metallic click of a gun slide being released sounded from the trees. "Sit." The barrel pointed from Sam's chest, to the ground. The man behind the gun watched him through wary eyes.

Sam clacked his teeth together. He stayed standing, rubbing his wrists raw from trying to loosen the bindings. "Why are you doing this?"

"Sit." The man's eyes darkened. "Please." There was no question in his tone, but it was a polite word, at least.

Sam's lips quirked up as his eyebrows drew together. He put his hands up, still bound, and got onto his knees. "There."

The man didn't move the gun to a less threatening position, just as Bart drawled out another, "Push!" The man's expression turned wry. "It's a wonder they caught you."

Sam scoffed. "Dean's gonna have a field day," he spoke under his breath - and why did his thoughts tend to revert to his brother? Why did he want to tell Dean about the nasal man's mantra of 'heave' and 'push', and why was that the main thought on his mind at the moment? He couldn't wait to tell him. Maybe he should have been more concerned about burning alive, though.

"Dean's your hunting partner?" The man-now leaning against a tree, though still in shadows-asked.

"He's my brother, and he's coming."

"They're counting on it." Sam's new acquaintance nodded toward the group.

"Push!"

"Shut up, Bart!" several people chorused.

"Shove?"

Sam looked at the man - really looked at him. "Why are you doing this?" He had asked before but he hadn't gotten an answer, and he wasn't one to back down.

The fellow shrugged a shoulder noncommittally. "Why do you do what YOU do?"

"To save people." Sam could feel the rope cutting his flesh and grimaced. "You can't keep doing this. You'll be stopped."

"You don't save people; you just save the ones you consider people."

"What's your name?" Sam countered. His head was still pounding; he shook it off.

"Alik," he stated rather bluntly.

"Alik. I'm Sam." The hunter rocked back.

"Hey guys, we're done!" The man, the same man who had been reprimanding Bart, called. Sam felt his heart pick up. He needed to distract them, just long enough for his brother to get there.

"We should do it now!" Bart blurted.

Several of the men looked from Bart, to Alik, then to Sam, shrugging and talking among themselves.

"Can't." Alik stated bluntly.

"Why's that?" one sneered.

"His partner is out there. If we wanna catch him too, this one has to stay alive."

"Like a worm on a hook..." another mused thoughtfully. Alik only shrugged. His dark eyes never left Sam, even as he spoke to the other members of the pyre-building company.

"You don't have to do this," Sam urged. By this point, he was ignoring the others, all except Alik. He really did hope that Dean had at least called Bobby for backup...

"Alik, you gonna let him talk to you like that?"

"It's a free country. He can talk to me however he likes," Alik answered quietly, waving the man away. "Go check the perimeter. Take Douglas with you."

The man grumbled and ambled off to do as he was told. Sam dropped his bound hands against his right thigh. Five of them were left, not including Alik, and they meandered around the Pyre. Well, it certainly explained how they got the victims up onto the stake wood. The thought made him sick, bile burning in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down.

Alik gazed over the pyre, expression never changing. "Good to meet you, Sam," he said, rather belatedly.

This time, Sam didn't reply; he wouldn't get an answer to any of his questions anyway, he figured...

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you QueenBea93 for the review!**

 _"I'm at the edge of the world  
Where do I go from here?_  
 _Do I disappear?_  
 _Edge of the world_  
 _Should I sink or swim?_  
 _Or simply disappear?"_

 _Sleepwalking, Bring Me the Horizon._

* * *

"We tie him up there now, and wait for his partner," Bart spoke, his voice a grating sound echoing through the small clearing. Sam tensed and shifted away, eyeing the woods. There was a chance he could make it to the treeline, if not for the fact that several of them carried handguns. He was running out of options.

"We will wait. Rushing through will get you killed," Alik stated, walking around the pyre with a speculative glance. "Thomas rushed on the first one, and look where that got him."

"Thomas?" Sam asked, something hidden under the tone.

"One of the men!" Bart spat at him.

Alik only shrugged, distantly staring down the mountainside. His gaze shifted to Sam again.

Well, Sam mused, hunters would always go down swinging. It seemed to be part of the job description. He smirked mirthlessly at that, then looked up, meeting Alik's eyes. He only shook his head and glanced away, settling on staring at a rather ugly tree. The longer he watched it, he saw shapes in the bark - shapes that looked suspiciously like warped faces. Sam grimaced.

"What if his buddy don't come for him? Will he come for you?" Bart turned, looking pointedly at Sam.

"Bite me."

Bart's face turned down, eyes narrowing. "Huh?"

This time Sam didn't resist the eye-roll. He sighed through now-parted jaws, looking up at the bright sky. "Never mind," he spoke low enough to make his voice rumble in his throat.

"What brought you to New Mexico?" Alik broke the temporary silence.

Bart shot him an incredulous look, as though he couldn't believe the man could hold such a normal conversation with the prisoner.

"A little bird," Sam replied, his tone dulling. Blood ran down his fingers as he continued to struggle against the ropes; he hid a wince and met Alik's eyes. "Why do you care?"

Alik considered Sam for a long moment. "Do you ever try to save the people you hunt? They were people once; you know..."

"They killed people, and none of the ones I've ever met had any intention of stopping." Sam resisted the urge to sigh. He had always wanted out of this life; he hadn't wanted anything else the same way. Even at a young age, he'd had the fear that one day, their father wouldn't come home. That one day, he would see his big brother's throat ripped out; and so he had left, gone to Stanford, striving for normalcy. He had run, and he felt that in some way he would always feel guilty. But he pushed it down, swallowed the dread. Maybe he had gotten lost. Ever since Jess died, every since their dad died, he felt the change in himself. He felt colder, more determined. Was it a good thing, or a bad thing?

"Maybe they would've..." Alik's answer was vague and short. He stalked around the pyre, disappearing for a moment before coming around the other side again.

The hunter didn't reply. By this point, he was confident that the bindings wouldn't budge. He scowled and put his hands on the ground, bringing his feet up and shoving the heels of his boots against the ropes. Not that that would do anything either.

"He's gonna escape!" Bart blurted.

"So what if he does? We all have guns. Bart, go find something to do." Alik waved him away.

"But..."

"Away from here."

Bart glowered, but trundled off into the trees regardless. The sun had gone down, sinking behind the mountains, replaced by the moon.

"If you're all for second chances, why not give them to hunters?" Sam's voice was strained as he continued to push against the bindings.

Alik said nothing for a long moment. "Who's to say I didn't?"

"Then give me one," Sam said rather suddenly, hazel eyes searching, asking, waiting.

Moonlight highlighted a cloud of steam as Alik breathed. "Why?"

"Because you're better than them," Sam's voice was confident, but he kept the tone quiet.

"Better than who? Them?" Alik tilted his head toward the forest, where the others had gone to patrol. "I'm just like them..." he paused, "...Maybe not as belligerent."

Sam frowned slightly. "If I went willingly, would you leave my brother alone?"

"That's not how it works." With a rattling sigh, Sam rocked back into a sitting position, his arms resting over bent knees. Alik spoke again, "If-and this is no promise-but IF I helped you escape... you would try to save them?" He looked doubtful.

"Save who?" Sam frowned in confusion.

"The people you call monsters. Granted... some of them truly are beyond help; but not all."

A different expression crossed Sam's face. He swallowed and rubbed his teeth together before speaking, "You lost someone?"

Alik's eyes darkened and he stared distantly at the forest. "Yes."

"I'm sorry." A look of realization dawned on the hunter's face, "That's why you're doing this. That's why you're all doing this."

Alik didn't deny it. "They cope with loss the same way you hunters do. They lost a loved one, and they went after what-or who-they believed was responsible."

Sam could feel the ropes loosening, which was a surprising finding. "Yeah - I would try."

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

**I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 _"And we run and we don't look back  
And we run til we've had enough_  
 _And we run, tell me how to run_  
 _And we run, til we break down_  
 _And we run til we fall apart_  
 _And we run til we've had enough."_

 _And We Run, Within Temptaion._

* * *

The drive was a long one-or at least, it felt long-as they headed back toward the mountains. Bobby had called, saying he'd called in a favor with a buddy in the New Mexico police department. They'd run the plate number on the pickup. Evidently, it belonged to one "Bart Eddison." The truck had last been seen at a red light in Tijeras, heading up 14... up toward the hiking trails and mountain land where the other bodies had been burned.

Dean drove along the tree-shaded roads even now. He could see Bobby's headlights in his rear-view mirror. Minutes passed like agonizing eternities. He couldn't be too late. He just couldn't.

Ahead, the crime scene came into view. It was abandoned. So, whoever had taken Sam had obviously picked a different spot. Dean could only hope they had picked the same mountain. He parked the Impala off to the side, in a shady spot where it was unlikely to be noticed, then walked around the back, pulled open the trunk and started gearing up. He glanced back, watching Bobby's car as it too glided into a shady spot across from the Impala.

Bobby was there not moments later, standing by the Impala, shot gun in hand and a 9mm in its holster on his hip. "This better be the place," the man tilted his head and pursed his lips before breathing out an exaggerated exhale.

"It's gotta be. All the other bodies were found up here."

Bobby frowned and nodded. "We could split up, but who knows how this thing's been getting the jump on hunters."

Dean nodded. "Maybe we stick together until we find..." he wasn't sure what they'd find, "...Sam. Then we circle around and kill whatever son of a..."

A loud crack echoed through the trees. Gunfire. The sound was unmistakable. Dean's heart leapt to his throat. Maybe Sam got away... maybe... He slammed the trunk and looked at Bobby for only a moment. "Which way did it come from?"

"This way," Bobby grunted and took off, his back retaliating with an unnatural crunch.

Dean lunged after him, overtaking and passing him in the following seconds. Dean-shotgun in hand-raced up a small trail. In the following silence, not even crickets chirped... He didn't know how long the silence lasted. Minutes, seconds... He kept telling himself that Sam got away. The killer's MO wasn't to shoot first, burn later. Maybe his little brother had taken out whoever was with him, stole his gun, and shot him? Yeah, that was possible. Sam wasn't incapable.

Another shot rang through the forest, followed by two more. Dean gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath. IF Sam had escaped, and IF he was armed... he wasn't alone. There were more people up there... who knew how many?

Bobby spat out a string of curses himself, his favourite starting with 'b' and ending with 'alls'. Most monsters didn't use guns, and serial killers usually worked alone. A cult?

Distant voices started shouting. The speakers were too far away to hear clearly, but Dean could hear several male voices, and at least two females. No hint of Sam though. Still, Sam wouldn't be hollering to give his location away to strangers. However, there hadn't been gunfire in some time... what if they'd? No. It was too early to assume anyone had hit Sam. He could've slipped into the trees during the confusion. Maybe they were looking for him now.

***SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Bart and Rami had burst through the trees, coming to a sliding stop in front of Alik and the others. "It ain't just the partner - he's got somebody else, and they're armed," Bart had panted.

"We gotta do this now!"

"Get him on the Pyre!"

Hands were gripping at Sam, tugging at his arms and bloodied wrists. He let out a feral sound from the back of his throat, lashing out and hitting one of the men upside the head. Two more hands joined in, hauling him off of the ground. "No," he spoke, almost in a warning tone, "No!" It came out in a roar. He didn't want to be fried, and he didn't want Dean to find him like that; barbecued.

The gunshot rang through Sam's ears. He didn't know where it came from or why, but he took the chance it gave him. Ignoring the burn, he worked his hands free of the ropes - finally. He dropped, rolled, and came face-to-face with Bart's corpse. His brief surprise was pushed away and he reached out with bloodied hands, snagging the dead man's Glock from his lax hand.

The clearing froze in silence for a moment. No one spoke. All eyes were locked on Bart's body, and all weapons were trained on Sam. "Who fired that shot?" someone barked-one of the women-looking around.

Alik, having been previously in the shadows, strode forward, sticking to cover. He reached Sam and tapped him on the shoulder.

The hunter flinched and leaped off of the ground. He met Alik's eyes for half a second longer than he probably should have, but then gave a small nod. He racked back the Glock's slide and dropped into a shooter's stance, aimed at Rami and took his shot - the bullet went through the man's knee. A howl filled the clearing.

"Run, this way!" Alik tugged on Sam's sleeve, then moved back himself. A bullet slammed into a tree inches from his face. He grimaced but didn't slow. "I hope your friends know where to find you. We're miles up."

"The gunfire should be enough," For Dean, he left off. Dean could be quite like a bloodhound. Sam zigzagged between trees, jumping down a boulder. The path was steep and he wouldn't be able to catch his balance if he landed on his feet, and so, he landed on his shoulder and rolled over into a standing position.

Alik slid down behind him. "Hopefully it doesn't lead him wrong. Mountains tend to echo."

"He'll be here. I know it."

Alik didn't answer. He jumped a boulder, barely missing its top, then landed on the other side, ducking as a bullet skimmed past where his head had been not a moment before. Sam heard a whizzing sound by his ear and dodged away from it, swallowing roughly. He slid down an especially steep hill and waited for Alik.

Alik slid down beside him and leapt forward, not pausing for an instant. "You do realize how difficult..." he ducked a stray tree-branch "...it will be for me to get off..." dodged another branch, "...this mountain alive, now that I've helped you."

Sam stopped, turned, and aimed the Glock - waiting. Not a moment passed before someone peeked over the hill. He took his shot, and the sound rang through the valley. The Pyre-killer tumbled down the hill and Sam didn't wait another moment before he started moving again. If he had any say in it, both he and Alik were getting off of this mountain alive.

Alik trailed along at Sam's side, easily keeping his pace. He debated falling behind, pretending he'd not been the one to shoot Bart... but who would believe him? No one. After all, he'd been the one to talk to the hunters; the one that didn't treat them any different than other people. Yes, the others would know he'd let Sam go. He kept running.

Sam's lungs ached, his head hurt, his wrists throbbed - but he was alive, and so was Alik, and he planned on keeping it that way. He came to an abrupt halt, an especially deep valley ahead of them. He frowned and looked for the best way down, then started clambering down the boulders and rocks.

Alik moved diagonally along the valley, finding a tree with ancient roots that seemed to meander down into the dark. He used the roots like rope. "You've been at this a long time?" he muttered, just audible for Sam's ears.

Sam looked sideways and for a moment the words didn't seem to register, but when they did he let out a quiet and mirthless laugh, "Yeah, you could say that." But never humans. They didn't hunt humans, the serial killers and murderers were left to the police. He supposed there really was a thin line between human and monster, and sometimes they stepped over into each other's boundaries. Amy, a Kitsune, had saved Sam's life. The Benders, humans, had tried to kill him and Dean. The line could be very, very fine.

"Hmm..." Alik's response wasn't overwhelmingly talkative as he moved along through the valley. Perhaps they could throw the men off their tail if they reached the stream... he'd seen it nearby, if he recalled correctly...

Sam made it to the bottom of the valley, fallen branches crunching beneath his boots. He glanced over his shoulder, "Alik?"

"Hmm?" He looked over, eyes vaguely distant.

"How well do you know these woods?"

"Well enough... I studied a few maps. Good memory." He shrugged. "Why?"

Sam motioned for the other man to lead the way.

Alik continued forward, keeping his head tilted slightly so he could listen. The stream must be close by now. Yes... distantly, he could hear it gurgling over rocks and brushing against the sandy shoreline. "We're coming up on the stream." He could ALSO hear the men shouting in the distance, still looking for them. Sam watched their 6'. He steadied his breathing and did his best to conserve energy, as who-knew how far they still had to go.

Only five minutes later, they reached the stream. It wasn't deep-most streams in New Mexico weren't-so Alik stepped into the water, steeling himself against the cold as it rushed around his feet. "If we follow the stream, it'll take us down, and hide our tracks."

A peel of thunder rolled in the dark sky. Blessedly, clouds hadn't yet covered the moon - and Sam hoped they wouldn't, because they were out in the mountains without flashlights. Moonlight was all they had. He stepped into the stream and started walking, the water tugging at his boots with every step he took.

"It better not be a lightning storm," Alik muttered, looking pointedly at the water they waded through. "...or the people looking for us will be the least of our worries."

Sam huffed out a breath and sped up his pace. His lungs burned, but he ignored the feeling, choosing to focus on the path. It wound around a small cliff face, and he couldn't see where it went from there.

* * *

 **Thank you again! Reviews are encouraging, so if you have an opportunity to leave one, I would greatly appreciate it!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you all for the follows, favourites and reviews thusfar.**

 _"I could stay lost in this moment forever_  
 _Well, every moment spent with you_  
 _Is a moment I treasure."_

 _I Don't Want to Miss a Thing, Aerosmith._

* * *

They had nearly reached the end of the stream, Sam could already see the shore. He took a quiet breath and glanced over his shoulder, the gun cold against his hands. He hadn't seen any of the Pyre-killers in sometime, and it didn't bode well. Still, they pushed on. Alik strode along beside him. Though the air wasn't cold, the stream was, and it made the surrounding breeze feel cooler than it otherwise would have. The mountains were deceptively quiet. The others were likely looking for them carefully now... rather than all out chasing them.

Sam could feel his heart beating in his chest, pounding like a drum. They were being hunted. The idea made his skin burn. The man stepped from the water, testing the wet ground beside the stream. Alik waded out after him, moving into the trees without hesitating on the river bank longer than necessary. He stared across the stream and back in the direction they'd come from. No movement drew his eye... yet, anyway.

Sam paused, putting out a hand and motioning at Alik. He stood still, deathly so. Something was moving towards them; running through the forest, huffing breaths, grunts and the snapping of branches. The Pyre-killers had a way around? Sam didn't wonder about it for too long, instead he raised the weapon, moonlight glinting off of metal. He waited.

Another moment later, and two figures came darting through the trees. The closest paused, bending over double to catch his breath. He blurted out a curse that started with B, and ended with alls. The other paused, listening.

A look of unexplainable relief washed over Sam's face. He let out a breath through parted jaws and lowered the Glock, "Dean?"

"Sammy?" Dean lowered his 45. and took a few cautious steps forward

Sam laughed, his eyes suspiciously wet. "Yeah," he breathed.

Dean put his 45. in the waistband of his jeans and moved the rest of the distance between them, pulling Sam into a rather bone-crushing hug. Sam returned the movement, even as he held his raw wrists away from his brother's back. "You okay?" Dean asked at the same time as Bobby said, "How'd you get away?"

"Yeah - uh," Sam breathed deeply, not a second later overwhelmed by the smell of leather and gunpowder and _Dean_. He stepped back and looked over his shoulder, "Alik, this is my brother Dean, and," Sam gestured towards Alik, then Bobby, "Bobby, Alik, Dean, Alik," he popped the 'k'.

Dean and Bobby spun, trying to look into the shadows. "He a hunter?" Bobby asked, squinting into the dark when no one made themselves apparent.

"Yeah, uh," Sam breathed something of a knowing laugh, "No. I'll explain later."

Alik stayed by the trees. "You go. I'll watch your back."

Dean glanced toward him, then Sam, and shrugged. Bobby looked in the direction Sam had just come from. "How many are there?"

"There are five now; at least, five that have been hunting us." Sam turned, looking at Alik. "Alik, they'll kill you - you can come with us," his voice softened.

"Whoa, wait," Dean held up a hand, giving Alik a suspicious look. He turned to Sam. "If he's not a hunter, who is he?"

Alik stayed at the edges of the darkness. "If it's any trouble, I'll stay. There're only five left..." He shrugged.

"He's, he's," Sam stammered, then frowned, "He was with them," Sam paused for half a second, "but he saved my life. I'd already be dead by now if it weren't for him."

Dean's expression grew flinty. Bobby shrugged. "Look, we better get off this mountain. We can debate over who's comin' and who's stayin' later." Bobby waved an arm toward the trail.

"Alik?" Sam spoke, turning, hazel eyes looking through the dark.

"Hmm?"

"Come with us."

Alik breathed out a long sigh. He slowly trailed after them, not looking entirely convinced. "I'll come with you to the edge of the trail..." He warily looked between Bobby and Dean.

Sam nodded and began moving. For a moment he held his throbbing hands against his chest, then pulled the Glock from his waistband and walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean. "It's a cult, Dean, trying to get back at hunters for killing loved ones that had been turned or something," he spoke quickly and quietly.

Dean nodded. "Okay, so... basically, they're hunting hunters like hunters hunt monsters?" He frowned at the tongue twister and glanced over his shoulder at Alik.

"Pretty much."

"Huh... so do we take 'em out?"

"I have a better idea…"

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 **Thank you again! Reviews are encouraging, so if you have an opportunity to leave one, I would greatly appreciate it!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all for the follows, favourites and reviews. This is the last chapter, so thank you for sticking with me!**

 _"Bones, sinking like stones,  
All that we've fought for."_

 _Don't Panic, Coldplay._

* * *

Sam's boots slid against the wet ground; the rain had been falling for the past twenty minutes, but it hardly mattered now. He could see the road. He could see Bobby's truck, and, with an odd sense of familiarity, the Impala. He jogged out from the woods, gravel crunching underfoot. The others followed suit. He turned to Bobby, taking a moment to catch his breath before speaking, "We can tip off the cops."

Bobby stared at him for a minute, his breaths coming in pants. "I'll call 'em, say a bunch of yahoos are shootin' each other up here."

"Good idea." Sam let out a shuddering sigh.

Dean nodded. "Okay... Sam, are you sure they're not gonna be a problem? Can the cops actually handle this?"

"Yeah. They can handle it." Sam put the Glock into the waistband of his jeans. "Alik? Be careful."

Alik waved on hand noncomittaly, but nodded, heading off down the road on foot.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Dean's gaze followed Alik, then turned back to Sam. He wasn't sure about any of this.

"What? Leaving him alive? Yeah, besides, he's human. We don't kill people, remember?" Sam was pulling open the passenger door, the creaking filled the small parking area. He landed on the bench seat with no amount of grace and let out a noisy breath, dragging his legs in after him. He felt chilled and achy down to his very skeleton.

Dean hopped in the driver's side, started the car and nodded. "So what, that's it? These guys kidnap you, and you wanna let the cops handle it?"

"What else are we supposed to do, Dean?" Sam's voice rose and he put his arms up before letting his hands drop to his thighs. He winced. "Sorry."

Dean shrugged. "Okay..." He pulled out of the parking space and onto the road. The car drove smoothly over the pavement. They passed Alik, who only glanced at them for a moment before refocusing his attention on the road. "Don't disappear like that again though, Sam... seriously." Dean stated, looking at his brother for a moment.

Sam's expression softened. They had already lost their father in the past year, he didn't know if either of them would be able to move on from each other's death. "I thought you weren't going to look for me this time," Sam said with the slightest of smirks.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean said, managing to keep a straight face, though his eyes sparkled as he smacked Sam's shoulder with his free hand.

"Guess this proves it," Sam began, "You do care." His face lit up with a grin.

"Don't make me pull over and push you right back out."

Sam laughed and shook his head, looking down at his hands. They were still caked in dried blood, the skin on his wrists red and scabbing over. He needed to take a shower, but the thought of it was tiring. Maybe he would sleep first.

"Seriously though, you okay?" Dean spared a glance at Sam.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Dean nodded, guiding the car around a particularly windy part of the road that let out on 14. He stopped at the stop sign and let out a breath. He hadn't been certain what to expect, but he'd feared the worst.

"...Are you?" Sam frowned in concern.

"Hm? Yeah... I'm fine."

"Can we get something to eat?" Sam paused, "Just not barbecue." Too soon? He put on an innocent smile.

Dean laughed. "Sure. Think we passed something-the Greenside Cafe-on the way up."

"Great. Hey, Dean..." Sam frowned and glanced out the window, "How much of it do you think they were awake for?" He swallowed, but it felt like he had swallowed air.

Dean shrugged. "I dunno... Not much." He hoped.

"Yeah..." The younger watched darkened trees as they passed through the mountains.

They continued on their route away from the mountain, leaving it to darkness. Red, white, and blue lights came around the bend ahead; Bobby's "Back-up." The police cars raced by, heading in the direction they'd just come from.

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 **Thank you all! Your interest meant the world to me. God bless and gramercy!**


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